occasionally come back to Montgomery from Detroit, where she lived, to visit dear friends.
Johnnie Carr was one of those friends. Ms. Carr had befriended me, and I quickly learned that
she was a force of nature—charismatic, powerful, and inspiring. She had been, in many ways,
the true architect of the Montgomery Bus Boycott. She had organized people and
transportation during the boycott and done a lot of the heavy lifting to make it the first
successful major action of the modern Civil Rights Movement, and she succeeded Dr. Martin
Luther King Jr. as the president of the Montgomery Improvement Association. She was in her
late seventies when I first met her. “Now Bryan, I’m going to call you from time to time and
I’m going ask you to do this or that and when I ask you to do something you’re going to say
‘Yes, ma’am,’ okay?”
I chuckled—and I said, “Yes, ma’am.” She would sometimes call just to check in on me, and
on occasion she would invite me over when Ms. Parks came to town.
“Bryan, Rosa Parks is coming to town, and we’re going to meet over at Virginia Durr’s
house to talk. Do you want come over and listen?”
When Ms. Carr called me, she either wanted me to go some place to “speak” or to go some
place to “listen.” Whenever Ms. Parks came to town, I’d be invited to listen.
“Oh, yes, ma’am. I’d love to come over and listen,” I’d always say, affirming that I
understood what to do when I arrived.
Ms. Parks and Ms. Carr would meet at Virginia Durr’s home. Ms. Durr was also a larger-
than-life personality. Her husband, Clifford Durr, was an attorney who had represented Dr.
King throughout his time in Montgomery. Ms. Durr was determined to confront injustice well
into her nineties. She frequently asked me to accompany her to various places or invited me
over to dinner. EJI started renting her home for our law students and staff during the
summers when she was away.
When I would go over to Ms. Durr’s home to listen to these three formidable women, Rosa
Parks was always very kind and generous with me. Years later, I would occasionally meet her
at events in other states, and I ended up spending a little time with her. But mostly, I just
loved hearing her and Ms. Carr and Ms. Durr talk. They would talk and talk and talk.
Laughing, telling stories, and bearing witness about what could be done when people stood
up (or sat down, in Ms. Parks’s case). They were always so spirited together. Even after all
they’d done, their focus was always on what they still planned to do for civil rights.
The first time I met Ms. Parks, I sat on Ms. Durr’s front porch in Old Cloverdale, a
residential neighborhood in Montgomery, and I listened to the three women talk for two
hours. Finally, after watching me listen for all that time, Ms. Parks turned to me and sweetly
asked, “Now, Bryan, tell me who you are and what you’re doing.” I looked at Ms. Carr to see
if I had permission to speak, and she smiled and nodded at me. I then gave Ms. Parks my rap.
“Yes, ma’am. Well, I have a law project called the Equal Justice Initiative, and we’re trying
to help people on death row. We’re trying to stop the death penalty, actually. We’re trying to
do something about prison conditions and excessive punishment. We want to free people
who’ve been wrongly convicted. We want to end unfair sentences in criminal cases and stop
racial bias in criminal justice. We’re trying to help the poor and do something about indigent
defense and the fact that people don’t get the legal help they need. We’re trying to help
people who are mentally ill. We’re trying to stop them from putting children in adult jails and
prisons. We’re trying to do something about poverty and the hopelessness that dominates
elle
(Elle)
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